


Not a sidekick anymore.

by brutallyamish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, sort of a spoiler for the most recent episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutallyamish/pseuds/brutallyamish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If not, then what am I?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a sidekick anymore.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xtremeroswellian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/gifts).



_Looks like you’re not a sidekick anymore, Stilinski._

How many years had it been since it was obvious he was playing second fiddle? It had actually bothered him in the beginning, but in the end, the whole werewolf thing didn’t seem worth it. He’d been by Scott’s side from the beginning and saw the first full moon and let’s be honest, that was terrifying. Trying to keep his friend under control involved theft though hurling lacrosse balls at Scott had been kinda cathartic at the time. Okay, a lot cathartic, but you know. Since this whole thing started, breaking the law and running around under the sheriff’s — his father’s — nose had become a daily thing. 

But as useful as he was, he was still just the sidekick. Seriously. Scott got the whole superhero gambit going; he got the origin story, he had the ill-fated romance, he had his nemesis and he had the grumpy, semi-unwilling teacher. Stiles was always there, he was the man with the plan, but he was just an ordinary human and he remembered every time he had the chance to say _I told you so_ and remembered every time a call got dropped because _Can’t talk right now, Stiles_.

For just an ordinary human though, he’d seen some pretty messed up things, lived through being sort of ritually sacrificed except Scott was the true alpha and all he got was that he couldn’t sleep. 

At all.

Eight hours in three days was what he’d told Scott’s mom in the hospital. There was something about the way she looked down at the paper when she was taking his symptoms down that bothered him but she was coming at him with a needle and who doesn’t freak out. Midazolam or something. Even though he didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to be asleep either.

For a fraction of a second, he dreamed about mom. 

Just her, in a heart of darkness. It was weird and maybe it was because he was in a hospital room, but he could even remember her _smell_ ; orchids, sugar cookies, the stinging sterile smell of an isolation room and death. 

In the dream, it was just the two of them and nothing, a gaping void and they were just two ordinary people. He knew he wasn’t going to cross that canyon in between them, and he felt like he did when he was younger, desperately trying to stop something from happening and it was all his fault. It was because he was only the sidekick. The heroes are the only ones capable of saving people and he was always just going to be the comedic relief. 

As she started to fade away, he got mad. 

He was smarter, wasn’t he? He endured more, hasn’t he? Where was his origin story?

There was something in that void. Everything in him knew it was bad, he could feel it creeping up on him like a panic attack and he held his breath hoping that he could close his eyes and it would end but it was talking to him with his mother’s voice, telling him to wake up. There was something great waiting for him and all he had to do was let it in. It would give him the power to save his friends, it would make him more than just the forgettable ordinary human. It was bad, it was a trap, but it was wrapped up in the body of his mother and she was hugging him and _It was going to be alright, Stiles. Just take a deep breath. Just say yes._

And he knew he shouldn’t but just couldn’t say no. 

It was just a dream because he was waking up in that hospital bed and he could feel where Scott’s mom had jabbed him with the needle that knocked him out. He felt more tired than ever, but more than that, he felt like he’d lost his mother all over again and he was angry and alone. 

Getting up out of bed, the room was spinning and it felt a lot like he was going to pass out but something was egging him on, there was something somewhere in here that he needed to find except he didn’t know where he was going or what he was looking for. Counting his fingers over and over, just to make sure he was awake, he walked through the halls. It was like he knew where he was headed even though the walls stopped looking familiar and the corridors starker and more sterile but each step forward felt more sure than the last so he kept counting, hoping this would make sense, hoping it wasn’t his handwriting on the chalkboard and a key that only he ever really saw. 

Stiles wasn’t sure he was awake when those shadow things showed up, and the way his eyes couldn’t seem to focus seemed bad. Really bad. Actually life-threateningly bad. But a hand came at him and without flinching, he stopped it, pushed it back. For once, he was strong, he was more than just a pushover. He could defend himself. If he could fight these things off, he could protect his friends. Plunging a hand into its chest, he pulled out a dying firefly and killed it. 

Before long, all that was left of them were the crushed bodies of fireflies, their light extinguished permanently by someone who could actually stop them. He was finally better than them at something. Ten fingers means this wasn’t a dream. 

Then there was Scott, asking him if he was alright, having found him just standing there. He was fine. He was better than fine. He was great. If he wasn’t still thinking about those shadow ninjas, how he _killed them_ , he would have told Scott, but this was his victory. Stiles wanted to celebrate it for a little while longer and Scott would take it, just like he took everything. Stiles wasn’t going to be the sidekick anymore. 

He was stronger than Scott now. In the back of his head, or maybe just from somewhere behind him, he could hear mom, telling him he didn’t need Scott anymore. Scott was branded. Scott was the enemy. 

In that instant, Stiles was afraid. 

_Now it looks like you're the villain._


End file.
